The True Essence of Band
by silver blood
Summary: This is a group of stories based on my experiences in Marching Band. Please read and review!


This is the true story. of 120 people. Forced to endure hours of scorching sun, bad music, and long Saturdays. This is the story of the PHHS Marching band.  
  
Everything you read here is true, written from the experience of a Freshman clarinet player in her second year of band. Some of these stories will make you smile, some will make you cry. But they're all incredible stories that show EXACTLY what marching band is all about. Are you ready? Well here goes.  
  
Chapter One: The Ecstasy of Winning  
  
It's our first contest. All summer, since the State Fair, we've been working our asses off. Two weeks of band camp in suffocating heat, eating only K burgers and Papa Johns, has paid off. We've changed. Last year seems like forever ago. We have a new director, new instructors, and no drum line.  
  
We've gone from barely understanding the basics to marching in a pattern of 12/8, 10/8, 12/8, 10/8 with a little 4/4 and 6/8 mixed in there for fun. We're about to perform our show for the first time, in front of everyone.  
  
My heart is racing. I'm not nervous like I thought I would be. I'm confident. We're going to do the show, and we're going to rock.  
  
Next think I know, we're marching on to the field. The music of Pat Metheny fills my ears, and I concentrate like never before. The show isn't flawless, but its as close as we've ever been. Our best run ever.  
  
We stand on the side of the field, grins on our faces. We can't believe that we did it, and even better than any of us had imagined. We all hug, tears of happiness threatening to splash down our cheeks.  
  
There is no time to change and be back for awards, so we continue to stand on the side of the field and watch the other bands perform. None of them sound or look as good as we did. We're ecstatic.  
  
All of the bands are done playing, and we have 15 minutes before awards. Somebody starts clapping out a beat. It's the familiar beat of our school song. The next thing I know, we're all singing.  
  
"Hail, hail to Pendelton Heights! Mighty Arabians ready to fight! Cheering for the green and white, Get in there boys and really fight! Though the odds be great or small, Spirit and might will win over all! For our team we'll do our best and fight on with all our might Hail yes!"  
  
It's the best moment I can ever remember experiencing in band to date. We're all laughing, singing, and dancing. All fights and stresses are forgotten. We all quiet down as the drum majors are brought onto the field and the awards are about to be announced.  
  
We hold hands, squeeze our eyes tight, and cross our fingers.  
  
"And now in class B competition. The Caption awards."  
  
We're all jumping in anticipation.  
  
"Best marching goes to. Pendleton Heights!"  
  
The silence is broken as we all scream and jump and hug. My throat is becoming raw from all the screaming, but I don't mind.  
  
"Best percussion goes to. Whiteland!"  
  
We all groan. It's because we don't have a drum line! We all knew this was going to happen.  
  
"Best auxiliary goes to. Pendleton Heights!"  
  
We scream and laugh again, we can feel our hearts racing and we cross our fingers and grasp each others hands tighter yet.  
  
"Best music goes to. Pendleton Heights!"  
  
There is a moment of startled silence, and once again, the air is filled with our screams and laughter, but this time, louder than before.  
  
It's the first time Pendleton Heights has won a Best Music caption in 15 years.  
  
The happiness in the air is thick enough to cut. We don't care about placing; we don't care about anything except the fact that we've achieved something together. Something bigger than ourselves. Something that will bring to our school a new kind of pride.  
  
We win the contest, we knew we would.  
  
You see though, the pride that we have over that contest is not taking the title of first place. It's not the fact that we were considered the best ones there, but the fact that we did our best and achieved something that changed the reputation of our school. We shocked and wowed the crowd with our ability to work together, and it was obvious that we'd worked hard.  
  
That kind of ecstasy doesn't come from winning a contest, but winning a battle within you. Knowing that you succeeded only because you worked hard, THAT, is the true essence of being a winner. 


End file.
